Quick Study
by Solo By Choice
Summary: Pavel Chekov will try anything once. Five times that went badly and once it didn't.


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**i.**

"Nae, lad, like this." The burly engineer repositioned the young man's arm around the cloth bag. "Now, the fingers go here an' this is what ye blow into."

Chekov took a deep breath and blew. The bagpipes made a noise like a dying cat.

Scotty frowned. "Tha was hardly a peep, laddie. Fill yer lungs!"

Chekov did so and tried again. The discordant sound was at least louder this time, if not anymore melodious.

"It sounds like it's in horrible pain," he commented.

"Aye, well, making it sound nice comes later."

Chekov blew again. The pipes honked like an angry goose.

"How much later?"

**ii.**

Chekov spewed another mouthful of water into the sink. "That was disgusting! How can you eat food like that?" He swished a fifth cup of water around over his aching tongue.

Doctor McCoy was leaning against the bathroom door, looking highly amused. "It's Cajun; it's _supposed_ to taste like that. It's called _flavor_, something your bland bread and potatoes are usually sorely lacking."

"Bread and potatoes do not taste bland, they taste_ natural_. This Cajun stuff assaults the sensibilities of my mouth," said the Russian decisively.

"Well, normally," McCoy chuckled, "people put slightly less in their mouth at one time."

Chekov finally straightened and glared at the older man. "I will never eat another thing you give me, not ever!"

McCoy smirked, stepping back. "Alright then, more peach pie for me."

The door _swooshed_ shut in between them and he hurried down the corridor, laughing.

**iii.**

"_Ich heiβe Chekov,_" Uhura enunciated slowly.

"_Ich heiβe Chekov,_" he repeated, not pronouncing it quite right.

"Close enough," she allowed, with a smile.

"I have always wanted to learn German," Chekov gabbled happily. "It is a good language. They pronounce their 'w's in a much less confusing way than English."

"From your perspective, I suppose that must be true."

"When I was younger, I used to watch old history films. I have always wanted to know the meaning of United States President Kennedy when he said '_Ich bin ein Berliner._'"

Uhura laughed. "He told an entire crowd that he was a small, jelly-filled doughnut. I wonder how they ever took him seriously!"

"It does not mean 'I am a Berliner.'?"

She shook her head. "'_Ich bin Berliner.'_ Is how to say that. Foreign languages can be confusing."

He nodded. "Maybe I will stick to being bilingual for now, _da_?"

**iv.**

If Vulcans were allowed to do things like glare, Chekov was sure that Mr. Spock would be putting those menacing eyebrows of his to good use. As things stood however, he merely looked peeved. "You are not concentrating. If you wish to learn the art of Vulcan meditation, you must also learn to sit still." He closed his eyes again.

Chekov tried to let his mind go blank and think of nothing but breathing in and out slowly, but he accidently thought of a dirty joke about Orions and how his nose itched and what he wanted to have for dinner and how he was going to play poker with some of the security ensigns later that evening…

If Vulcans could do something as clearly emotion-based as kick someone out of their quarters, Chekov was sure Mr. Spock would have done so and quickly. However, the Vulcan simply said that they ought not to waste time with a venture that was clearly not going to produce any desirable results.

Either way, Chekov ended up in the hall, free to fidget as much as he liked.

**v.**

Chekov glared at his hair in the mirror, willing it to miraculously start looking less ridiculous. It did not. Someone cleared their throat delicately from the doorway and he turned to find Nurse Chapel looking at him with a combination of amusement and irritation.

"If I'd known what you wanted the scissors for…"she sighed, holding a hand out for them. "And for God's sake, get this place clean before the doctor comes back from lunch. I do _not_ need to deal with one of his moods right now, thank you very much. It looks like someone had a seizure while shaving a dog in here."

"Unfortunately," Chekov grumbled, looking around at the mess he'd made, "my hair cut agrees with this sentiment. I wonder if it is within regulation to wear a hat on the bridge?"

**vi.**

When they came up for air, Chekov leaned back, a pensive expression on his face.

"Well?" asked Sulu, feeling stupid. "Was that alright? Or, I mean-"

"It was…different," the Russian decided.

"Different as in good or different as in bad?"

"I am not sure yet." A mischievous gleam lit his eyes. "I think I need to experiment further."

Sulu would have made some crack about science except Chekov was doing very distracting things with his hands and the helmsman was having some trouble thinking straight.

"You…are a fast learner."

"So," mumbled Chekov, shifting closer, "I have been told."


End file.
